When All the World's a Stage, the Show Does Go On
by M. Night Wolfalona
Summary: The final chapter of my 'After the Last Mystery' series, with Shaggy's side of the story, and a song by Queen. Hints of Shelma and Fraphne if you squint. Shaggy gives the gang hope for the future after the break up in a very strange way. Please R&R.


**Hello. I hope that I can do this. I really do. Wish me luck.**

**I own nothing. Bye.  
**

9--9--0--9--9

Singing in front of people was never really a talent that Shaggy could get a hold on.

Especially when those people were his very best and closest friends.

Usually, whenever the gang went out to the malt shop on a Friday or Saturday night, everyone save for him would go up onto the karaoke platform and embarrass themselves greatly, all the while laughing as hard as they could manage. He never really enjoyed the idea of standing up in front of people he saw every day and night and squeaking out some random tune to a scratchy recording of the music playing far too softly in the background for his own tastes. As well, he was rather shy when it came to performing in front of the gang; he knew that they would be expecting his voice to crack in the middle of every line, as it often did when he was with them, although mainly out of fear of whatever psychopath was running after them in whatever cheap rubber suit he could get his hands on. Truth be told, in high school Shaggy had actually had a few supporting roles in some musicals that had been performed, and since the gang had never been involved with the theater crowd, then his secret talents were safe from his friends.

Or rather, as of last week, his former friends.

It was times like this that he wished that the world was like a play, where something bad would happen and be resolved in less then an hour-and-a-half, leaving everyone closer then they'd been before. Maybe even with a catchy tune or two to lighten the mood. But although this had been life before they all split--everyone would bicker lightly, then resolve it all over shakes and fries at the malt shop, usually laughing at whoever happened to be that night's victim at the mike during the karaoke hour.

This time though... the beatnik didn't think that all could be as it was again with just a milkshake and a medley of morons at the microphone. No, it would take an army of monsters and everyone in the gang trapped on a desert island to make the gang come back together again as they used to be. Maybe even an evil genius hell-bent on ruling the world and getting revenge on Mystery Inc. thrown in for good measure, who knows? Maybe if he was lucky such a thing would happen, and he would get his friends back, if not for his sake, but Scooby's as well. The poor dog was still mourning over everyone leaving. He just didn't understand why everything couldn't just go back to the way it was before, or why he couldn't still be friends with Fred, Velma, or Daphne anymore.

Truth be told, Shaggy wondered the exact same thing. But he also wondered why no one had even bothered to try to listen to what he'd tried to tell them all how much they needed each other, and how much he needed them all. They knew that he had bizarre food tastes; they even knew that he used his taste palate in strange metaphors. But none of them had bothered to listen past his interpretation, none of them had bothered to make sense of it. They'd just heard it as they wanted to hear it, and gone their separate ways.

It was for the best, he supposed. Perhaps, this was just an excuse to make leaving easier; in August, everyone would've left Coolsville to go to their own college, each in a different corner of the U.S. Fred was going to some college in Illinois on a football scholarship; Daphne was leaving for Miami to work at a fashion journalist university; Velma was heading up north to go to Yale (or was it Harvard? He could never remember which one she'd ended up choosing); and Shaggy himself was leaving for a small media arts school up in Seattle. Everyone was gonna be somewhere else, and parting would be hard on such a close-knit group of friends. Everyone would be worried about being forgotten, so they'd found the first excuse to leave in a way that wouldn't be as close or painful as purposefully leaving everyone else would be.

For, if no one was friends anymore, then leaving in anger would be easier. Everyone would move on with their lives, make their own ways for themselves, and eventually forget the people that they'd known as both sisters, brothers, friends, and (in Fred and Daphne's former case) lovers. There was only one problem with this plan:

Shaggy didn't like it.

At all.

For Shaggy didn't want to be left behind in a yearbook, remembered only as being part of some old, stupid, high school club. He didn't want to be forgotten and left in the dust with bad memories, or just plain forgotten at all, only to be encountered with faked memory loss at a high school reunion twenty or so years later. Nuh-uh. This time, the beatnik wasn't going to be ignored, and he wouldn't let himself be left behind and remembered as someone who was only scared, and who was of no use to the gang. He was tired of feeling like he had no talent when he was with his friends. He was tired of feeling like he had no place with the leader, the fighter, and the brainiac. And he was tired of feeling guilty and responsible for mistakes that he didn't make. He wanted to be heard for once. He wanted the former gang to know who he really was for once in his life.

He wanted to be heard out, plain and simple.

And with every ounce of courage that he could muster up, he was going to do just that on that rainy Saturday night.

He'd already sent anonymous letters to everyone, dropping them off personally in their mailboxes, with no stamp or postmark to be seen. Each letter gave instructions to meet at the malt shop at either 10, 10:15, or 10:30 PM that night, and to stay until midnight, when the karaoke night was officially finished. Their meals would be paid for in full, as long as they stayed the entire time, and sat in the designated spots that had been arranged for them for that one night only. Daphne would be at the counter, Velma would be by the corner window, and Fred would be at a small table by himself. Hopefully, when the place got more crowded at that time (the karaoke night on Saturday was wildly popular for some strange reason), no one would be able to see the others, and know that they'd been duped until they knew exactly why they'd been summoned so mysteriously.

Hopefully his plan would work. Otherwise, everything would fall to ash before his eyes; and he would never be heard by the people he wanted to care about most.

The beatnik sat in the far corner of the small establishment, watching as the place slowly began to fill up. He looked at his watch--9:52-- and stroked Scooby's ears reassuringly. The Great Dane didn't want to be here; for him, it brought up happier memories that made the most current events that much more painful for the poor dear. He lay there, whimpering as the smell of hot fries and chocolate malts drifted over to his wet black nose, and burying his face in the bright red vinyl seat covers of the booth, trying not to cry in his once-favorite public place to go to.

Shaggy looked at him mournfully--hopefully he would end it tonight, once and for all. And then maybe, just maybe, the healing process could begin. For him, when Scooby had offered him the last Scooby Snack on that most fateful of nights, and broken down into tears, Shaggy had started to heal already, getting stronger if only to be there for his best bud in the entire world. For if he wasn't strong for Scooby, then he couldn't be strong at all.

And tonight of all nights, he desperately needed to be.

He pulled back his old black jacket sleeve to see the time on his cracked watch. 10:02. He looked up and saw the first of his friends enter. It was Fred, looking around until he found the small place-card on a nearby table with his name on it. Within it would be enough money for his usual meal-- a half-pounder cheeseburger with extra pickles and and tomato, chocolate shake, and a large side order of seasoned fries-- as well as instructions to stay until the last song. The blond man shrugged as he read it, and sat down. Strange; he didn't look any different, despite how everything had changed.

As the former leader looked around, Shaggy pulled out his dad's old black fishing hat, and pulled it low over his eyes, so as to help hide his face, which already held a pair of thick sunglasses and a long blue scarf. It wouldn't've mattered, really; none of the former gang even knew that black was in his wardrobe. So the worn black jacket alone, faded with many a washing load, would throw them off enough to not suspect him.

10:16. Daphne strode in, wearing 6-inch stilettos and a tight black and fuschia dress, large purple glasses perched upon her dainty nose, and waves of firey red hair flowing down her back. She strode confidently to the counter, glaring down a guy who'd been coming in to cop a quick feel, and sat down on one of the stools, where a purple-tinted envelope sat with similar instructions and enough money for the grilled chicken strip salad and a strawberry shake. She too looked around, her eyes lingering on the dark form in the far corner booth up front in dark black colors, pinning him to be the mystery writer. Just as quickly, her eyes fell on Fred, who was just sitting there, playing with the edge of the menu idly, and her eyes narrowed. But she stayed, and ordered her meal. Just like the figure had hoped she would.

And finally, at 10:27, a small, almost unnoticeable figure slipped in, wearing a crimson scarf, a heavy orange sweater and blue jeans, with coke bottle glasses perched on her nose. Her shadow-darkened eyes were visible from this distance, weighed down with guilt and sorrow. She sat quietly at the table and read through the letter, before placing it back in the envelope and ordering a small vanilla shake, some onion rings, and a small hamburger with onions and ketchup. She looked around as well, quickly spotting Fred and Daphne, who had both discovered each other and were in a secret staring-glaring match, and let her eyes scan the room, until they fell upon his slender, darkened form.

Shaggy felt his skin grow warmer beneath his collar, and a wave of nausea and fear washed over him. He couldn't do it, not in front of Velma of all people! She'd been his unknowing crush for years now, ever since the two had gone exploring together when he was ten and she was only eight. She'd looked so beautiful in that fairy field they'd found, with a daisy crown continuously slipping down over her eyes. Her beautiful maple syrup brown eyes, so simple a color, and yet so complex had drawn him in since that moment. He couldn't do it all now, he couldn't, it would hurt her too much, he couldn't do it...

And it was then that he truly saw what was hidden in her eyes.

Hopelessness. And guilt.

She'd lost all hope, all self-esteem that she'd had with the gang by her side. She blamed herself for what had happened, when in reality everyone had been to blame. It wasn't her fault, not completely; she'd only done what would've happened anyways that night. But the burden was not hers to bear.

And so courage shot through him again. He would show them all that it was everyone's fault. In exactly 74 minutes...

The time passed slowly between the acts. Only a few were good; most were booed off the mini-platform, having fries and the like thrown at them. At this point, everyone in the gang had seen each other, and were shifting awkwardly in their seats, as they tried to look and not look at each other all at once. Scooby had peeked over the edge of the table at one point and let out a mournful wail before collapsing into the vinyl booth upon the sight of his former friends/owners, and Shaggy had quickly tried to shush him when he did so; luckily, at the time, someone had been shrieking out a hit from KISS at the time, so none of the gang had noticed it. And as the list of brave people who'd signed up to sing dwindled down closer to him, a lump built up in his already dry throat, and he swallowed down some water hastily, as he tried not to let the growing panic engulf him enough to force him to chicken out, like he'd always done before.

Finally, the last person finished up with a mild round of applause, and several loud shrieks from her little group of friends. It was finally his turn, the last singer of the night. And he knew that this was the point of no return when Jerry, the announcer/DJ for the evening, stepped up to the stage, and said, after lightly praising the previous singer:

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for our last song of the night, someone who is well known for never singing on these nights. May I introduce, in his karaoke debut with 'The Show Must Go On' by Queen, here's Mr. Shaggy Rogers!"

At those words, the gang all stiffened with realization; Scooby looked up from the booth and stared at his owner both quizzically and disbelievingly, as did almost everyone else in the malt shop; and Shaggy stood up, took off his hat and sunglasses, and walked over to the mike, trying not to notice the gang's shocked looks as they all stared at him, waiting for him to speak before the now silent room.

"I dedicate this song to those who are purposefully here to hear it. I hope that you get the message tonight. And please, don't throw food." A light chuckle ran around the room, quickly ending as the music started up, loud and clear on the old jukebox, one of the few unscratched records in the machine. The speakers pulsed with regret and sorrow, and the words appeared on an unneeded screen. Everyone watched, waiting in anticipation.

And he began to sing.

_"Empty spaces - what are we living for?  
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score..  
On and on!  
Does anybody know what we are looking for?"_

Everyone sat there, amazed. His voice was, in a word, amazing. The emotion was astoundingly clear in the song, and almost perfectly aligned with the sudden, tense, and stunned atmosphere. The gang could only goggle at him in wonder and surprise, as the sharp-biting tenor voice rose in volume and intensity.

Damn, Shaggy was a good singer. How was it that they never knew?

Because, they realized, they'd never bothered to get to know. And so the guilt of the past week descended upon the group as the next lines were sung.

_"Another hero - another mindless crime.  
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime.  
Hold the line!  
Does anybody want to take it anymore?"_

Memories of what had happened that night came flooding back to them all with a startling rush and clarity. The bitter words, the hateful glances, the spiteful, final goodbyes... it was all there, lingering in all their minds. And for one minute, they all regretted saying what they said, and doing what they all did. And for the first and only time, they felt like getting up and apologizing to each other, hugging and sitting down to talk everything out; something that they wouldn't feel like doing for another two years. But alas, they were afraid that if they got up, the spell would break, and they would wake up after this strange, strange dream, while everything remained the same between them all, as bitter and hateful as ever before.

So they sat and watched instead. And their feelings remained beneath the surface, to linger and grow for a very long time indeed.

_"The Show must go on!  
The Show must go on!  
Inside my heart is breaking,  
My make-up may be flaking,  
But my smile, still, stays on!"_

Shaggy couldn't feel his body. He felt strangely disconnected as the music coursed through his body, leaving an epic trail of renewed confidence, of bravery and strength in its wake. He was gaining power as his lips moved, producing a sound that he couldn't believe was coming from his own mouth. He looked up and saw his friends watching him, with such strange looks on their faces. And yet, he couldn't help but smile a bittersweet smile at them all, his locking with each of them, oblivious to the room full of people who were also there, seeing only their faces in a blank and empty room before his eyes.

They were getting his message. They were listening.

And they would know what he wanted them to know.

_"Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance.  
Another heartache - another failed romance.  
On and on!  
Does anybody know what we are living for?"_

At those words, three people blushed, one for an entirely different reason that she didn't quite understand. Why was it that those words, sung so painfully, affected her so, wrenching her own heart alongside it? Velma didn't know, a first in her life, as it was; she looked on, wondering if he felt what she did, maybe had all along. If it had been ruined with her words.

His eyes caught hers at that moment, and she looked into them and knew the truth of things as they really were and had been all that time. In those deep pits of shining gold, she saw that the guilt and regret was doing nothing good for her. She had to try to let go, if she could. Everyone did, or else they would never get over this, instead leaving it to fester and grow into a bitter infection, completely ruining their friendship once and for all, and beyond any sort of repair.

Maybe they would survive it after all.

And Mystery Inc. might live again one day. They just had to wait to see it happen. But for the meantime, maybe they could all survive without each other. And when they finally got back together, they would be better and stronger and closer then ever.

At least, one could only hope so in the end of things.

_I guess I'm learning  
I must be warmer now..  
I'll soon be turning round the corner now.  
Outside the dawn is breaking,  
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free!"_

Had he always felt so restricted by them all? everyone thought simultaneously. Had they held him back from being something more? Or had they held everyone else back with their own problems, their own burdens when they let it all build up to the point of explosion?

What was it that the gang really knew about each other, besides what they'd liked and disliked when they were kids? They knew which school subjects they excelled at, which they liked and didn't like, what clubs they were in. But about what really mattered... did they even know? All they'd done for the past year was solve mystery after mystery after mystery after mystery. Had they even bothered to see if everyone was still the same person, and not a stranger? Were they that self-absorbed in themselves that they hadn't noticed what was happening until they'd already grown too much apart to be brung back together again?

Apparently so, if they hadn't known this about their skinny friend. And yet, he'd watched them grow and become different people then they had been before; he'd take notice of everything that was happening around him, and remember it. He knew that it was time to move on, if only for a while. The time apart would help them grow and mature beyond the petty high school teenagers that they were now into, perhaps, a different set of people altogether, a group that could work with each other and truly know who they were working with. That had been the problem, and only time and luck could fix it all now.

And the gang had always been very lucky.

_"The Show must go on!  
The Show must go on! Yeah!  
Ooh! Inside my heart is breaking!  
My make-up may be flaking!  
But my smile, still, stays on!"_

It was hurting him, to sing these words to people who may not even want to hear them. But he kept on, hoping that they would understand. They needed time apart, as much as he hated to admit it. They needed to recognize that everyone else was actually there, not just a pawn or an anomaly to glance at and keep away for your own gains.

They needed each other, but not now. For now, they needed to be better then they were in order to deserve each other properly. They needed to be on their own to know the value of their former friendship like he did. They needed to be alone; as did he.

Shaggy looked out over the blur that was the crowd, observing the only four beings that mattered to him at that moment. Scooby was wide-eyed, but he was no longer crying. Fred seemed to be ashamed of how he'd acted, but he wasn't sure why he felt that way. Daphne just sat there, observing everything with a calm demeanor, and seemed to have a glow of empowerment around her. And Velma...

His golden orbs met her maple eyes, and he saw tears again. But they weren't like they'd been before. They weren't tears of mourning, but tears of joy. For some reason, it looked as if she'd thought that Shaggy would blame her for saying what she'd said. Oh, how a lie did live. He'd never blamed her for what she'd done. She'd been the first to break free from their self imposed walls. And she had no reason to be ashamed.

None whatsoever. For who could blame a butterfly for breaking free of her cocoon for the first time? It was now that she needed people to smile at her, now that she needed to know that it was alright to be gone, if only for a while. Everyone needed to know that it was alright to be who they were.

They needed to be free, once and for all. And so he smiled at her, briefly, before continuing on.

_"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies,  
Fairy tales of yesterday, will grow but never die.  
I can fly, my friends!"_

With those words, Shaggy spread his arms out wide, and tilted his head up towards an unseen sky, as the background music played on. With that, he knew that everything they'd been through, the real and unreal, could never be forgotten. They would all live on, in memory and in person, learning how to live on their own, learning how to be themselves and accepted for it. That had been his main fear, when he was with the gang. That they would reject him for being a theater techie, a stage performer, and a person that was nothing like they'd known him to be as a child. But now... now he had no fear of being who he was. He didn't feel that same hesitation he'd felt when he'd been about to tell them in the past and chickened out, too afraid of rejection to say anything, despite how he'd desperately needed their support during those stressful times.

But when your closest friends have rejected you and the rest for the sake of the truth, why would it seem so bad?

The gang looked at him, as he stood there, slender arms thrown out wide, fingers splayed, eyes closed, and they wondered why they'd been so self-conscious about being who they'd always been, when here they saw that their dearest and most loyal friend was foregoing his stage fright, just to tell them that there wasn't a need to be who they weren't. The large Great Dane looked up at his master, who stood silent before the crowd, and he slipped over to his former friends, sniffling at them to forgive him at least, if not the rest. They each stroked his ears and smiled, before turning away again as he moved between the tables, stopping to sit by the front door, waiting for him to finish, as the music began again.

_"The Show must go on!  
Yeah!  
The Show must go on!_

_I'll face it with a grin!  
I'm never giving in!  
On with the show!"_

Shaggy would never give up on his friends. But these were times when he would be willing to let them fly free, to let them explore the world's greatest stage. He would let them write their own lines, and direct their own scenes for a time. He would let them improvise for the time being. But later, he knew that the time would come when Mystery Inc. would exist again, just as he was sure Fate had planned it to be. They would go about their separate ways, and be brought back with a mystery when they were meant to be together again, he was sure of it.

As for his own time, his own freedom, his own play, well... he would manage somehow, and always find a way to find the best things in life, so that he could smile, even if the world wanted a tragedy from him instead. He knew that such things existed to make life better. Faeries and ghouls, goblins and monsters, spirits and spooks, they would always be there. They would wait for them to come back. They could wait, for a while. But now, Shaggy wanted to enjoy life, and enjoy living it.

He was destined to make his world a comedy. For there is too much to cry about when you live in tragedy's world. And he was tired of mourning.

_"I'll top the bill!  
I'll overkill!  
I **will** find the will to carry on!  
On with the,  
On with the  
SHOW!!"_

And with those final words, he threw down the microphone stand, and strode out confidently, passing each member of the gang as he did so.

Fred looked stunned as he encountered what was a veritable stranger to him, who looked the same but wasn't, brimming with an uncharacteristically defiant fearlessness as he looked down at the blonde leader, standing up to him for the first time in a very long time indeed. He wouldn't let the world crush him down anymore; especially not someone he once called 'friend'. Shaggy dropped something from his pocket onto the table in front of him, an orange piece of cloth that looked strangely familiar, and moved on, not waiting to watch him open up his parcel.

Daphne didn't look all that surprised as he passed her spot. In fact, she looked almost proud that he'd stood up for himself, and that he wasn't going to let the gang's mistakes his own. He gave her a sympathetic look, for she too was beaten down, if to be a piece of eye candy, and dropped another piece of cloth, this one bulkier and heavier then Fred's item had been. She smiled, and waved him on, to where Velma was sitting.

The small, bespectacled girl looked up at him, as the song continued to fade in the background, and the audience watched them, wondering what was happening between them all. She too smiled at him, her expression wavering slightly as she wiped away her tears. "Jinkies," she sniffled softly. "I didn't know you could sing, Shaggy." At that, the corners of his mouth twitched upward, as he attempted to stay serious for her.

"Well, like, there's a lotta things you don't know about me." He said, as he shuffled his feet. She looked mildly surprised at this statement, but only for a moment; then she smiled again.

"You always knew just what to say to make me feel better, Shag." He smiled fully this time, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulling out a small blue cloth with his right. "Maybe you could tell me one day what I don't know about you?"

"Like, sure. Just promise me one thing, kay?"

"Alright. What?"

"Like, try not to change too much." And with one final glance, he dropped the small blue cloth into her hands, and walked off, pushing through the crowd of people who were wildly applauding and praising him for his talent, trying to convince him to stay and sing another. Finally, the ruffled beatnik reached the door, where his partner in crime sat, waiting patiently for it all to be over.

"You ready to go home, Scooby Doo?" The Great Dane looked up at him, and his large muddy eyes shone with gratitude and relief, and a little bit of hunger.

"Ran re rave cheeseburgers?" Shaggy nodded, and laughed as he opened the glass door, waving once to his short-time fans, and catching the eyes of his friends for one final time. He grinned at them, winked, and then walked out, leaving all of his fears of rejection and his inability to stand up for himself behind. From that moment on, he would be himself, no matter what someone might say about him. He would show the gang that he could do something with his life other then run away and eat. He would prove himself to be memorable, to be important, and to be a friend to them all one day. And so, as he clamored into the Mystery Machine, he spared a final look at the cheering people within it, finding the three people who were still sitting quickly enough, each of them opening their small packages. As he drove away, Scooby bouncing excitedly on the seat next to him as he thought about his cheeseburgers, he knew exactly what the gang would find with their parcels.

Fred would find his ascot, his name embroidered with purple thread; Daphne would find her small hairbrush, slightly gnawed on by a certain talking dog; and Velma would find her spare pair of glasses wrapped in a cleaning cloth. With each item was a Scooby Snack and a piece of paper, one that he hope would give Mystery Inc. a chance again some day. It was a quote that he'd found, in one of his old drama textbooks from high school, and read simply this:

_When all the world's a stage, the show does go on._

For whether you are with friends or without, in a comedy or tragedy, have money or none, the show does go on.

And it would go on with all of them soon enough.

FIN

9--9--0--9--9

* * *

Wow. I did it. I FINALLY DID IT!!! WOOHOO!!! I finally finished the 'After the Last Mystery' series, with Shaggy's POV. I tried so hard to write this on so many occasions, but I never found anything that really fit! I wanted to do something where Shaggy actually stood up for himself and Scooby, something that would leave the gang feeling confident that they could live without each other, yet still sort of hoping that they could all be friends again someday and a team again. I got this idea at 2 in the morning today, when I was listening to my Ipod and this song came up. It fit so well, and the plot bunny bit my ass and wouldn't let go until I'd written about half of it, finally falling asleep at 5 in the morning. The words fit so perfectly for the situation, I couldn't **not** use it, really. Wow, this is a load off my chest. I finally finished a series, yay! And with almost 6000 words, no less. Wow.

I dedicate this to everyone whose been waiting for this for far too long. I hope it is satisfactory enough.

And I know that we don't hear enough about Shaggy when it comes to talents. For all we know, he could sing really well. I just decided to make it up. It IS fanfiction after all. ;P

I hope that you enjoyed this almost as much as I enjoyed finishing writing it. Goodbye for now,  
-Wolfalona-


End file.
